


Souls On The Wind

by Karracaz



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karracaz/pseuds/Karracaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and Saavik celebrate the Souls on the Wind ceremony to commemorate all those who had lost their lives over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souls On The Wind

Souls On The Wind

Part IV – KarraCaz

o0o

 

Spock nodded to Saavik. She stared into the fluttering candle flames, the Disciplines resonating within her mind. *I am Saavik, Daughter of Vulcan; I am Saavik, aduna of Spock. The mind rules…the mind controls…*

She came back to the living world little by little, her eyes adjusting to the velvet darkness that now enveloped the garden, drinking deep of the pure, rarefied air of this arid alien land that had lately become her home. The wavering light of the candles was now extinguished, the essence bowls empty, their contents whisked silently, almost mystically, away by a breeze that idly stirred the wind chimes into sweet song, and sighed among chakh' stems and Amanda's yellow roses alike. A ghostly susurration, the collective voices of plaintive spirits brought the short hairs on the back of her neck standing abruptly on end.

 

While the Terran blooms in the garden had closed their petals against the coolness of oncoming night, half a dozen native plants had opened their own. As she inhaled sharply, shutting her mind and heart to the desolate, rustling murmurings within and without her mind, the many enticing fragrances of shmaru and tsinan, pa'nori and ramakia joined with the strong cinnamon aroma of desert sands to overwhelm her senses. Yet, it was the faint but evocative scent of Spock's skin that assaulted her awareness most of all.

 

She raised her eyes to study his face, only to find that she was already the center of his undivided attention. In the long silence of the look he gave her, Saavik suddenly felt her thoughts disturbed by a startling grief. Spock's eyes had acquired a disquieting anguish, their velvet depths troubled like windswept water, a look that drove everything from her mind except his desolation. As she continued to watch, a lone tear welled up, quivered on his lower lashes for an instant before slowly spilling over onto his cheek. Unashamed of the translucent droplet shining upon his skin, he allowed it to remain where it had fallen glittering in the light of the fifty thousand stars that wheeled in eternal, stately dance above their heads. He had tried to teach her that, not to be ashamed of who and what she was, but she was slow to learn that valuable lesson.

 

Did he cry for those he had lost, Saavik wondered, his mother still sorely missed, his brother found and then taken away again, or his one-time captain, more-than-brother, James Kirk, the one person, either Human or Vulcan, he had named t'hy'la? But somewhere deep within her psyche, she knew that the solitary tear could only be for her own devastating refusal to recognize those fallen ones of her own, her unwillingness to exonerate both the living and the dead.

 

Gently, Saavik dared to extend her hand. Hesitant, tentative, she scooped up the miniscule droplet and brought it to her lips, savoring it on her tongue. The tear had a flavor not unlike riman wine, slightly coppery, slightly sweet. "Thee should not cry for me," she whispered softly, "I am unworthy of so great a gift, my adun."

 

In answer, he gently stroked a finger across her brow and cheek, until finally resting it upon the katra point at her temple, mouth quirked in that almost smile, the sorrow still evident in his shadowed eyes. "Should I not be the judge of that, my aduna?"

 

Her pulse jumped at his touch. Spock had befriended her ever since that long ago rescue attempt on Hellguard. She had observed his premature death and his reincarnation by the Genesis effect. Only when she had saved him from the fires of pon-farr and the plak-tow fever had she realized that her regard for him was not that of a daughter for a father but of a woman for a man. Moreover, despite the difference in their ages, she had the unique experience of witnessing his growth, much as he had witnessed hers, from childhood, through adolescence, early manhood and finally to the way he was now. She would have done anything to save him from any further hurt. But even ashamed as she was by her own obduracy, on this particular issue she would not, could not, comply with his unspoken expectations. "Spock, I…"

 

"It is of no matter, Saavik'kham. I understand."

 

"It does matter. I do not wish to … disappoint thee."

 

"Thee is mistaken, my aduna. I am not in the least disappointed. I find nothing but virtue in every aspect of thy bearing and personality. I wish only that thee could find peace as I do at this time."

 

"That I … cannot do, Spock. Not yet. Maybe never." Her chin lifted, intractable, resolute.

 

"Then, so be it." Looking at her set face and flashing eyes, he was hauntingly reminded of the starving, savage little urchin she had once been, hungry for food and shelter and someone to trust, but most of all for the stars. "If thee permits it, I will continue to mourn for both of us."

 

Resonant grunting sounds and the soft clatter of padded hoofs outside the high garden wall broke their absorption in each other. Spock quietly cleared his throat, his distinctive light baritone husky as he murmured, "The khu'unla have arrived, I believe…."

 

"So it would appear." For a moment, she laid a gentle hand upon his cheek, a plea for continued understanding. "I must dress…"

 

"So must I…"

 

"Indeed…?"

 

"Most certainly."

 

As they reluctantly drew apart, Spock loosely encircled her elbow with his long fingers and led her back to the house. They separated physically only when they reached the upper hallway that led to their individual chambers – and even then, their mental link prevailed.

 

Hurriedly, Saavik brushed her hair before braiding the thickly curling, willful strands with an abundance of white ribbon shmaru blooms. She arranged the jewelry pieces Amanda had gifted to her about neck and upper arm, watching her reflection in the long mirrored glass as the red gems in armlet and pendent cast crimson warmth across her skin. Lastly, she draped a voluminous burgundy kaatan over the neutral plainness of her other robes, belting it tightly with a jeweled and mirrored girdle about her slim waist. She slipped Amanda's ruby ring over the knuckle of the first finger on her left hand, declaring to anyone who looked her bonded state.

 

However, despite her haste in getting dressed, Spock still managed to reach the waiting khu'unla before her, taking over responsibility for them from the temple acolyte who had everyday custody of the enormous creatures.

 

The beasts, a mated pair, were neither domesticated nor tame. Yet, they allowed Spock to hold onto their jingling, belled and tasseled harness without undo alarm. As she approached, they tossed their great triangular armored heads; rough manes flying, snorting out huge plumes of hot vapor through dilated nostrils. Steeds, they were, descended from long ago war-mounts, riding animals now, kept under control only by the soothing mental contact of their Vulcan guardians and individual riders. They had as much parallel with a Terran horse as did a triceratops. The female of the pair reached down her thick neck to snuffle at the ribbon shmaru in Saavik's hair, the prehensile upper lip delicately examining the decorative blooms. Once the beast discovered the flowers were artificial and no good to eat, however, she threw her head up again, grinding fearsome teeth, trumpeting her derision into the darkness. The male echoed the bellow, sidling on its four, keratinous, two-toed, ponderous feet, taking Spock with it as he clung onto both bridles, lifting him at least five feet off the ground and swinging him wildly from side to side between the two enormous animals.

 

"Kohya," Saavik called to the unpredictable pair, hastily radiating impulses of calm and friendship, her tone soft, cajoling, though khu'unla did not easily respond to such enticement from those they did not know. "Kohya, khu'unla ch'kahoka, adunyu. Be gentle now, great ones. Be still. Do not harm my mate. See what I have obtained for thee."

 

From beneath the flowing kaatan, she brought out two of the tender kaferian apples she had filched from the fruit bowl on leaving the house, and held them out on her palm, keeping her fingers out of the way. The khu'unla flung up their horned heads, extending amethyst tongues, and each took an apple with a daintiness that belied their great size and strength. Spock managed to find his feet as they munched contentedly on the fruit, having put aside their former ire.

 

His features were concealed within the folds of the maroon hood that had fallen forward over his face, but when he spoke there was a marked reticence in his tone, "Perhaps I was overconfident in my abilities when I suggested this venture, Saavik'kham. It may be less dangerous if we walked to the concert."

 

In his impromptu flight heavenwards, one of the khu'unla's three prominent tusks, had caught him a glancing blow in a most unfortunate and sensitive place. Once more, he had to blink away tears, this time of acute pain. Saavik managed to stifle the unVulcan-like mirth that suddenly assailed her, the response to her natural relief at his safe return to solid ground.

 

"Of course, if that is thy wish, my adun." She would not laugh and shame him, yet the effort to contain it almost had her choking. "However, I believe our khu'unla's fondness for kaferian apples will keep them agreeable."

 

"Thee has more?" Spock asked, his gaze traveling intently up and down her body in search of their hiding place.

 

"Indeed, an ample enough supply, I believe." She murmured, suddenly experiencing a most improper heat at his close appraisal. She retrieved another two fruits and gave them to him. "Trust me, Spock- adun. Thee will be quite all right."

 

"I am gratified to hear it." Spock declared, his voice dry, and managed to refrain from informing her that he had spent the last four months trying to develop an amicable acquaintance with these particular khu'unla or, at least, one that allowed him to mount and ride with a modicum of expertise, something she had accomplished in a matter of minutes. The relationship had not included kaferian apples, however! Perhaps he had been negligent in that regard.

 

Saavik cooed at the male, uttering whimsical trivialities that obviously had no basis in either logic or fact. She spoke of his beauty, of how fine his teeth were, how luxurious his mane was – and to Spock's surprise, the huge creature responded by lowering its head, waiting to be petted. It rumbled low in its throat as Saavik scratched between the massive horns, communicating mentally as well as physically her desire to ascend onto its back.

 

"His name is Munta." She stated after a moment. "He seems agreeable to a ride in the desert with us."

 

"His mate also." Spock commented, as he struck the female high on her thick-skinned shoulder, his touch allowing a degree of mental contact. At the signal, and with the added incentive of a kaferian apple, she obligingly sank to her knees and extended a foreleg. Spock stepped lightly onto the proffered limb and from there boosted himself onto the opulently embellished and generously cushioned riding seat, the audaj. Immediately, Hualat, for that was the khu'unla's name, surged upright once more. Even with the experience gained over the last four months, the swiftness of her rise almost sent him tumbling head over heels onto the ground. He saved himself from a discomforting fall only by clutching hastily at the padded audaj rings; the reins slipping through them as Hualat spun round in a rapid circle. She circled again – and a third time, before he managed to gain control and straighten her out.

 

"Wind thy legs around the pommel," Saavik called out, her tone helpful. "Sit further back on the audaj and do not jerk the reins. Finger and thumb, that's all thee needs, Spock-adun."

 

Meekly, he obeyed, pondering on the reversal of their specific roles. He shifted his grip, and Hualat's powerful body tensed between his thighs, obviously interpreting the slight adjustment as a command. Before he could properly react, she rushed forward, shaking her massive head, recklessly careering down the pedestrian way while he could do nothing more than just hang onto the audaj horn.

 

Mercifully, with the katra fi’ Salan well under way, the quiet street remained empty and there was no one but Saavik to witness his ignominious advance. He had wanted to remember Sybok and James Kirk, excellent riders both, in this symbolic journey. However, he had not expected to duplicate that other wild flight on Nimbus III quite so authentically. He recalled his previous agonizing ride with the clarity of nightmare. The rough jouncing atop the alien tsemu had caused him severe physical inflammation for several days, a minor detail that nevertheless exacerbated his distress at the loss of his half-brother. With Saavik only on leave for these few days, he did not wish to be so incapacitated again, even for a short time.

 

The few other houses on the avenue, each surrounded by its high wall, decorated with night blooming flowers and aglow with ceremonial lanterns, flashed by him in a blur of motion. Gathering himself, the thunder of Hualat's hoofs in his ears, he shut his eyes and leaned forward, his fingers parting the thick swathe of black mane to touch the khu'unla's exposed neck. Hualat's thoughts came to him, fierce and wild, exultant with her impetuous headlong rush, further intoxicated by Spock's alarm. Yet, she heard his silent entreaty, listened to his request to slow her frenzied pace – or maybe it was the thought of munching on the kaferian apple that he promised her that brought her to an abrupt, skidding, halt.

 

It was several seconds before Saavik and Munta caught up with them. It had taken all of Saavik's considerable riding skills to stay in sight of her errant husband's madcap flight and she was breathing hard her hair, loosened from its multitude of artificial blooms, fluttering about her face in the cool breeze. Gravely, first ascertaining he was unhurt, she regarded him with a particularly solemn expression, a light of impish glee flickering in the depths of her eyes. "I…did not realize thee rode so well, my adun. However, is it not a little … inappropriate… for such rash feats of daring on the evening of katra fi’ Salan…?"

 

Spock did not fail to interpret her look, yet he inclined his head, as well mannered as his wife. "We also commemorate the lives of those we have lost, Saavik-aduna. I merely recreated an event in the past known to both Jim and Sybok."

 

"Of course." She agreed, recalling a phrase that Doctor McCoy, if present, might well have uttered at that point. In a pig's eye, she thought, and deftly impelled Munta into a ground-eating lope as she took the lead. The entrance to the open-air amphitheatre where the Academy orchestra played that evening was a narrow cleft carved by ancient volcanic activity into the heart of towering red sandstone cliffs. Once inside, the fissure tapered to little more than three meters in width, while the walls loomed up hundreds of meters on either side. The cleft, twisted and turned, the only light that of the stars shining down from above.

 

Saavik and Spock, still seated on their khu'unla mounts, were no longer alone. They joined the tail end of a procession comprised of ShiKahr's inhabitants intent on celebrating katra fi’ Salan, having earlier made their way along the dusty, paved, trail that led from the outskirts of the city to the very edge of the desert. Dressed in robes dyed in every shade of red, from the deepest ruby to the brightest crimson, the silent, superbly poised men, women, and children carried bunches of the tiny white, star-shaped ramakia blooms or wore in their hair and fastened to their robes, the faintly luminescent moonflower, the blossoms symbolic of katra fi’ Salan.

 

Even though the small knots of people were hushed, Saavik sensed the underlying ambience that united them all in unspoken communication. As they slowly traversed the meandering chasm, she and Spock knee to knee, the khu'unla quiescent beneath them, a single drumbeat began to pound, reverberating through the gently shifting air. A moment later, another joined it, and then another, until the rock walls throbbed with a complicated yet harmonious rhythm, like the great thundering heartbeat of the planet. The sound filled Saavik's mind, sang in her blood, and stirred some deep, elemental part of her that had, so far, remained aloof. Caught up in the booming roar, almost hypnotized, she found herself swaying gently from side to side. She reached across to Spock, two of her fingers extended. Without hesitation, he placed his own fingers against hers, an acceptable display of public affection.

 

Again, Saavik felt that small frisson of disquiet as she became aware of the ongoing communion; the focused attention of many hundreds of people like identical but individual sparks in a fire, or indistinct grains of sand in the desert. All there, and perhaps even those beyond ShiKahr's borders, were one mind, one heart, one thought, intent on those they had lost…

 

Saavik shivered at the reflection, the gooseflesh springing up along her arms, her scalp prickling with mingled apprehension and awe, an illogical panic coursing along her nerves. The fissure had narrowed even more, the high walls arching overhead, all but shutting out the starlight.

 

Sensitive to her unease, Spock raised an eyebrow enquiringly; his dark eyes concerned. "I am with thee, Saavik'kham. There is nothing here to cause thee harm. Soon we shall be out in the open once more."

 

Grateful for his tenderness, she inclined her head, intent on controlling her erratic breathing and the abrupt pounding of her heart. Yet, despite all her efforts it continued to hammer irregularly against her lower ribs. The past stirred in the deepest reaches of her mind. Each of us hides a secret pain, Spock had said. It was a strange statement for him to make, especially on such an occasion as katra fi’ Salan. Was it a quotation, one of the Vulcan Ways? While still a student, she had deliberated on many of the Vulcan devotions but she was sure she had never come across that particular declaration. Perhaps the avowal originated from James Kirk's Terran heritage. Over his long and distinguished career, Kirk had witnessed countless deaths, and been the cause of several more. Had he not lost his own son, David to a brutal and unnecessary Klingon attack? The gravest wound any parent could face, to have offspring taken from them in such a terrible manner and before their time. She, too, had cared deeply for David. Yet, instead of dwelling on the way he had died in her arms, his lifeblood draining away into the earth of the Genesis Planet, she preferred to recall the impulsive radiance of his intellect, his youthful rashness … and his humanity. The berserker rage that had overtaken her at his death, the way she had clamped her hands around the throat of one of her Klingon captors and refused to let him go, that she pushed deep into her subconscious. A different Saavik had done those terrible things, a Saavik that no longer existed.

 

Calmly she withdrew her fingers, breaking the elegant embrace she shared with Spock, taking up Munta's reins with both hands once more. I have no secret pain, she declared forcefully within her mind. Spock is mistaken. The past is the past; it has no power over me.

 

Yet, she was overwhelmingly appreciative to see the orange glow of torchlight ahead, flickering against the pale red sandstone through the further opening that led into the giant semicircle of the amphitheatre, large enough to hold the entire population of ShiKahr. Almost without her realizing it, the ponderous booming of the drums had given way to the softer but no less enthralling sound of voices. The chant rose from a formless humming that rippled through the crowd before them, into a disconcerting, deep-throated susurrus that continued to transform as they finally entered the auditorium.

 

Spock directed Hualat into a wide aisle that sliced upwards as the throng dispersed along the tiered stands. The female khu'unla remained docile as they continued to climb upwards towards the cliff top, overawed by the wordless but articulate communication that thrummed upon the air, the orange light from a mass of flaring torches illuminating the solemn, transfixed faces of the crowd. They swayed back and forth in time to the music; one step backward, a step to the right, one step forward, another step to the left; heel and toe, heel and toe, moving in isolated unison joined as if by an invisible string, never and always touching and touched…

 

The sacred song's timbre altered, became counterpoint to the drums once again, the tempo quickening, indefatigable and remorseless. Spock reined in Hualat at the summit of the rock face, a wide, flat plateau at their back, the semicircular auditorium before them, leaving room for Saavik and Munta to stand nearby.

 

The view from the cliff top was unobstructed, magnificent and Saavik's heart thundered in time to the booming roar, her breath coming quick and shallow as she gazed down at the unadorned proscenium fifty meters below.....

o0o


End file.
